Deutschophiles, Love Interests, and Glimmerous Fops
by Auztria
Summary: This will be my first story involving my very own OCs. It takes place after the events of GS3, but I'm not sure if Phoenix will be featured at all. It's going to be mainly set around the Prosecutor's Office. Review and tell me what you think!
1. Fascist Italian?

**This story is dedicated to Doctor Ivan. Rest in peace.  
**

* * *

Miles Edgeworth glared listlessly at the mountain of files covering his desk and groaned. He pulled a report closer to him and half-heartedly scribbled a few notes onto it before pushing it away and leaning back in his chair with a sigh. _This whole Auschau affair is killing me... _he thought with a grimace.

As he reached for another file, a loud banging on the door caused him to jerk his arm to the left, sending a mass of paper crashing to the floor. Edgeworth bit his lip in angered irritation. "Come in!" he called, rather forcefully.

Detective Gumshoe cheerfully bounded into the room, followed by an exasperated-looking Arturo Philippe. Philippe was one of the three recent new additions to the High Prosecutors' ranks. Edgeworth hadn't had the chance to learn much about him, seeing as the young man kept mainly to himself, in his own office. He stood in marked contrast to Klavier Gavin and Celia Cantragon, the other two new High Prosecutors.

Edgeworth noted that Philippe carried several books under his arm, all involving history. _He certainly seems interested in Nazi Germany..._ thought Edgeworth, noticing the trend of swastikas on the books' spines.

Philippe cleared his throat. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Edgeworth, but I need to borrow the old GW-7 case file and was told you had it."

"Certainly," stated Edgeworth, handing Philippe the file, "and before you go, Mr. Philippe, may I ask what is so interesting about the National Socialists?"

Philippe's eyes widened. "A-Are you Jewish, Mr. Edgeworth? I'm not a Nazi, I swear! I just like reading about Germany!"

Edgeworth chuckled a little. "No, not Jewish, but your fellow rookie Mr. Gavin is, and so were the Skyes. You'd best not carry swastikas around everywhere you go, or someone may get the wrong idea."

Philippe left, grumbling something about Jews and Germans, and Edgeworth turned to his subordinate. "What do you need, Detective?"

Gumshoe smiled. "Chief Detective said to deliver these to you, sir!" and dumped _another_ batch of files and memoranda onto the desk of a horrified Miles Edgeworth.

Miles Edgeworth had of course heard the saying "Don't kill the messenger," but the thought was very far from his mind as he glared daggers at Gumshoe, who suddenly realized he had someplace to go. "WellI'dbettergetgoingsirbyenow!" he said hurriedly as he hastened to the door, leaving his boss to stare sadly at the fresh pile of paper on his desk.

He had just picked up his pen and prepared to set to work when a sharp "Ow!" sounded from the hallway. Looking up in surprise, he saw Celia Cantragon stumble into his office clutching her shoulder as Detective Gumshoe apologized profusely. "I'm really sorry, sir- I didn't mean it- didn't see you- I-I- Please don't cut my pay..."

"Thank you, Detective, you are dismissed." said Edgeworth coldly, and Gumshoe resumed his earlier retreat. "Miss Cantragon, are you all right? What happened?"

Celia smiled at him. "Really, I'm fine. I was just walking to your office when your detective burst out like a coyote after a rabbit and accidentally bowled me over. He hit my shoulder, but it's..." She gritted her teeth and clutched it tighter. "...fine..."

"I'm very sorry, I suppose this must be my fault in the end. He wouldn't be fleeing if it weren't for me glaring at him over these." Edgeworth gestured to the Kilimanjaro of paperwork on his desk.

"Wow, Arturo wasn't kidding when he said you had a lot of work..."

Edgeworth laced his fingers together and looked at Celia. "I still am confused as to why you are here, Miss Cantragon."

"Well, like I said, Arturo told me you have a lot of work to do. And I have nothing currently, so I was thinking, maybe I can take some of it off your hands for you if you like...?" she finished.

Edgeworth was pleasantly surprised. "Why thank you, Miss Cantragon."

She laughed. "Call me Celia. If I can call everyone by their first name, they can do the same for me."

"You don't call me by my first name, Miss Cant- Celia."

She pouted slightly. "You never _told _me."

Edgeworth was actually taken aback. "Y-You mean, I never told you... _any_ of you... my first name?"

She tilted her head, thinking. "Well, Arturo probably knows, he's good at finding things out. But me and Klavier... no, you never told us."

Edgeworth smiled slightly. "How terribly rude of me. Well, Miss Celia, I am Miles Edgeworth. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

She grinned, relieving him of several files. "Don't you think that's a lot, Celia?"

Celia smiled wickedly. "Klavier doesn't have anything to do, either, but he wasn't offering to help anybody. So _these..._" she indicated the top third of her stack of files, "are for him." She said goodbye and departed, closing the door smartly behind her.

Miles Edgeworth returned to his much-lessened assortment of paperwork, a small smile on his face.

* * *

**Well, there you have it! My first story involving OCs (of my own, anyway). What do you think? I'll describe Arturo and Celia more in the next chapter.**

**I originally thought of making this fic Miles/Celia, but I'm not so sure now. Arturo/Celia and Celia/Klavier are also on my mind now. Franziska/Arturo, too.  
**

**I am not a Nazi, and Arturo isn't either. I hold Judaism and Jews in high regard, after only Roman Catholics.  
**

**Please, tell me what you think, _especially _of Arturo and Celia!  
**


	2. Heeeeeeeeere's Zachy!

**I'm not sure why, but I get the odd feeling that Ace Attorney 5 is going to sink the Emworth ship like the friggin' _Bismarck..._**

* * *

Arturo Philippe set _The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich _back on his bookshelf, hand hovering between two more tomes before selecting a copy of_ The First World War._ He sighed contentedly as he lowered himself into his office chair and opened the book. Naturally, this idyll was not to last: his office door creaked open and Klavier Gavin sauntered in.

"Guten morgen, Herr Fascist." Klavier_ had _noticed the symbols upon so many of Philippe's books, and had coined the unflattering nickname for his compatriot out of spite. Philippe's lip curled. "What do you want, Gavin?"

Klavier clucked his tongue disapprovingly at Philippe. "No need to be so rude, Herr Fascist. Fraulein Cantragon has been looking for me, no doubt to saddle me with even more work. Doesn't she realize I have a band to attend to?"

Arturo bit back a retort on how felonies rather outweighed an upstart band and grumbled at Klavier, "Go hide somewhere else. I don't want you slacking off in _my _office, thank you very much."

"Why Herr Fascist! How very insensitive of you!"

_"Out, I say!"_

"Alright, alright! No need to yell! I'll see myself out," said Klavier, pouting at Arturo as he exited.

Arturo sighed and set the book down, running his hand through his short black hair, icy blue eyes bleak. He stood up and straightened his dark blue sports coat, pacing the room and fuming at Gavin. "Bloody ill-mannered rude sarcastic pompous arrogant self-absorbed joke of a German!" he shouted, slipping into his angered British accent.

Klavier poked his head back around the door. "Language, Herr Fascist."

"All right, Herr Lazy, get to work." Celia's voice sounded from outside Philippe's range of sight, and a hand grabbed Klavier by the ear and yanked him out of sight.

"Ow! Fraulein, bitte nein..." Klavier's pleas grew weaker as Celia dragged him off to his office.

Arturo sat heavily at his desk and, sighing resignedly, started work on his report.

* * *

"Klavier, do you _have _to annoy Arturo like that all the time?"

Klavier made a sad-puppy face at Celia, who huffed. "He started it, Fraulein..."

"As I seem to recall, all he did was bring a load of books into his office to place on a bookshelf. It wasn't his fault you took offense at the box being labeled 'Third Reich.' We both know he isn't a Nazi."

"Ja, Fraulein, but he knows I'm Jewish."

Celia glared at Klavier, who shrank back. "_I _knew it. But we both know _he _didn't. Just because we both went to Gottingen for law study doesn't mean Arturo did."

Klavier frowned. "I still don't like it."

Celia shrugged. "What are you going to do, Klavier? Just because you don't like it, doesn't mean it didn't happen. Arturo is just odd that way."

"Yes, I know. Fine, I'll stop calling him Herr Fascist." _Just you wait, Herr Blackshirt..._

"Don't call him Herr Blackshirt either!"

"Fiiiiiiiiiiine. Okay, Fraulein, now that _someone_ has so nicely provided me with this extra work, I must ask you to leave, so that I can work in peace." Klavier stood and opened the door for Celia, gesturing her out.

Celia walked through Klavier's door, saying with mock severity, "And those files had better be on the chief's desk by tomorrow morning, Gavin, or there'll be hell to pay!"

"Ja, ja, Fraulein..." Klavier threw up his hands in fake exasperation as Celia left. She turned and smiled softly at him.

Klavier watched her back as she returned to her office, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. Celia Cantragon... just why did that woman make him feel so... so _warm _and _fuzzy _inside? As a budding rock star, he'd naturally been with quite a few girls... but why would _she _make him feel so different?

He returned to his desk and tried to concentrate on his work, but kept getting distracted by _her _face drifting into his mind.

* * *

Miss Cantragon herself had no idea of Klavier's feelings towards her, nor of how Miles Edgeworth seemed to be much less cold when she was around. There were other thoughts on her mind. Namely, the older man she saw standing outside of her office as she rounded the corner. Waiting for her.

"Zacharias. I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again."

Zacharias smiled shiftily. "Oh, I know you don't mean that, Celia. You were so in love with me, and I know you haven't dispensed with all those feelings."

Celia glared at him. "Go _away, _Zacharias. You are literally _not allowed _inside the Prosecutor's Office without express permission."

Zacharias smirked, but Celia could see he was pale. "Very well, Celia. I'll retreat for now." He mock-bowed to her as he passed, yellow eyes flashing evilly.

Celia put a hand to her forehead and breathed deeply, giving thanks to the powers that be that her once-boyfriend had not... like he had once... She shuddered. Unconsciously, she touched a hand to her throat.

Zacharias grinned cruelly as he strode from the building, hand fingering the objects he had... acquired from Celia's office. Being a Rivales had its perks, after all.

* * *

**Okay, so I never actually found the opportunity to describe Celia... but it really doesn't matter since nobody is actually READING MY STORY... *sob**sob* Why don't you like my story? Do you only read my stories involving death and horror? **


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